


War Of Hearts

by Queenxo



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Musician Geralt Z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenxo/pseuds/Queenxo
Summary: Geralt is a musician with anger issues, Jaskier is his sweet but sassy assistant.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	War Of Hearts

Jaskier approaches the music room in search of Geralt. Yennefer, Geralt’s manager, informed him that Geralt has been avoiding important meetings, and as usual Jaskier, as his assistant, was left to corral the prickly man. As he softly pushes the heavy door open, a sweet melody begins to drift out. Jaskier can’t help but smile. Despite being a musician, Geralt is a private man, and is uncomfortable playing in front of an audience, especially incomplete pieces. Therefore, it was a rare occurrence for Jaskier to witness the man in his element as he’s doing now.

Jaskier lingers in the entrance, his long arms crossed gently over his chest, his head leaning lightly against the solid frame, in a state of awe, a warm smile on his face. Geralt's long, thick fingers glide over the keys with a grace Jaskier could never hope to possess. He licks his parched lips as Geralt's muscular forearms flex and contract with every move of his hands. 

Geralt is wearing a plain black t-shirt, the sleeves straining against his biceps and the material clinging to the hard planes of the man's torso, and a pair of light grey joggers cover his sculpted legs. Jaskiers eyes widen as he spots Geralt's hair thrown up into a messy half ponytail, his breath catching in his throat at the sight. Overall Geralt looks as if he just rolled out of bed and Jaskier is transfixed. Geralt paints a sinful picture, with his eyes closed, head tipped back slightly as his talented fingers trace across the keys, a light flush spread across his cheeks. 

Geralt releases a groan of frustration, and suddenly brings his hands down heavily on the keys, an awful clang ringing out; Jaskier jumps from his relaxed position against the door frame, a startled yelp escaping him. He notices Geralt's attention turning to him while he’s still recovering, his pupils blown as he meets Geralt's burning amber gaze. 

“Uh, morning, Geralt,” Jaskier stutters, one of his dainty hands rubbing nervously at his nape, his cheeks dusted an embarrassing shade of pink. 

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Geralt grunts out, twisting his body away from the keys. Jaskier frowns; the man's body is taut with tension, his face twisted into a frown as he tries to flee the piano. 

“It can wait,” Jaskier states dismissively as he takes careful steps towards the piano, Geralt watching his movements curiously. Not hearing an objection from Geralt, Jaskier boldly sits himself on the bench beside the man, his fingers hovering nervously over the keys. 

“May I?” Jaskier asks, his eyes flicking shyly to Geralt. 

“You can play?” Geralt asks, confused, as his intense gaze roves over Jaskier’s form.

Jaskier snorts an amused laugh, trailing a long-fingered hand through his messy hair, tousling it nervously. 

“You really don't know anything about me, do you?” Jaskier says wryly, turning himself away from Geralt. Jaskier understands that he’s just Geralt’s assistant, someone Geralt had been bullied by his manager Yennefer unto taking on, but he still finds himself disappointed that, while Jaskier has learned every insignificant detail about Geralt, the older man hasn’t tried to get to know him in return.

He places his fingers gently over the keys, exhaling a shaky breath as he let the unnecessary disappointment wash over him, his fingertips resting where Geralt’s had moments ago, the keys warm beneath his fingers. 

Jaskier's fingers flit expertly across the keys as he plays: . 

Come to me  
In the night hours  
I will wait for you  
And I can't sleep  
'Cause thoughts devour  
Thoughts of you consume

Jaskier's melodic voice sings out, accompanied by the effortless glide of his fingers; he can feel Geralt's gaze burning on him. 

I can't help but love you  
Even though I try not to  
I can't help but want you  
I know that I'd die without you

Jaskier's voice wavers as the words leave his parted lips, his eyes unconsciously seeking out Geralt’s. Their eyes meet; Geralt’s are a mixture of confusion and surprise, the corners of his lips turned up into the ghost of a smile.

Stay with me a little longer  
I will wait for you  
Shadows creep  
And want grows stronger  
Deeper than the truth

Jaskier finishes softly, the last note ringing out through the silent room, Geralt's golden gaze firmly stuck on him, his eyes swimming with something unrecognisable. 

“Did you write that?” Geralt asks, his voice breathy. 

“Mhmm.” 

“I didn't even—fuck,” Geralt grumbles, his voice quiet, his eyebrows drawn in frustration, his body turned away from Jaskier. 

Jaskier sits silently beside the man, observing as the tension rises in Geralt's body. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispers timidly into the still air. He can feel the tension in the man's body as they sit thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. “Geralt, it's okay,” Jaskier tries to quell the man's rising emotions,by now familiar with the man's sudden bursts of anger.

Jaskier nervously places a small hand on Geralt's broad shoulder, the muscle tight beneath his palm. He can feel the heat of Geralt's skin seeping through the material. 

“I think you should go, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, his voice hard, a warning rumble beneath his words as he gently pushes Jaskiers hand from where it rests against his shoulder. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispers sadly. 

Geralt’s eyes meet his, an unrestrained fury burning bright behind his golden irises. Jaskier gasps, taken aback by the sight; even in the throes of unbridled anger, Geralt is careful with Jaskier in a way the younger man never expected. 

“You need to leave, Jaskier. Please,” Geralt practically begs, his eyes swirling with anger and sadness. 

Jaskier’s heart twists in his chest. He slowly stands from the bench, presses his hand down against Geralt's shoulder, reassuring the older man it was okay, before swiftly exiting the room, his throat tight with sadness. 

~~~~~

Geralt growls low as the hinges of his office door screech, alerting the musician to the door being opened. Geralt's desk partially hides the man's intimidating form from view as he sits slumped over it, mindlessly chewing on the end of his pencil. “Geralt,” calls Jaskier, as his messy head of hair peeks through the opened door. 

“Dammit, Jaskier,” Geralt snaps, catching himself and his assistant by surprise, his nerves fraying and patience wavering. Geralt tightly pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he releases a shaky exhale. “Jaskier, can you please just shut up for five fucking minutes,” Geralt breathes out, barely avoiding yelling at the younger man. 

Jaskier’s jaw snaps shut, the clack of his teeth slicing through the tense silence enveloping the room. “That's not fair,” Jaskier whispers. Guilt pools in Geralt's stomach as he watches Jaskier curl in on himself, his head hanging low and his body slumped dejectedly. 

Geralt sucks in a shaky breath. The gentle breeze drifting through the open door carries the sweet familiar scent of Jaskier’s aftershave, and Geralt takes in a deep lungful of it . The downtrodden expression on Jaskier’s face makes the older man wish he could bite his tongue, instead of using the smaller man as a scapegoat for his frustrations. 

When they’d finalised the contract, and established that they would be sharing an apartment, Geralt had assumed he would hardly encounter the younger man, but the notion was quickly disproved.Although Geralt’s apartment was large, with plenty of rooms to keep himself separated from the other man, he continuously found himself stuck with Jaskier’s enthralling presence. Jaskier was always alight with energy: even when the man wasn't speaking, he was always moving somehow, and this alone was usually enough to cause an unwarranted surge of annoyance within Geralt. When paired with Jaskier’s striking appearance and the sweet lilt of his voice, Geralt found himself snapping at the younger man instinctively, in an attempt to keep the younger man at arm’s length. 

“Jask,” Geralt murmurs guiltily, his eyes stuck on his assistant's tense frame. “Jask, come on, I didn't-”

“Save it, Geralt,” Jaskier snaps, interrupting Geralt's apology. Jaskier’s angry blue eyes pierce Geralt's apologetic gaze, the smaller man's anger sending a chill down his spine. 

Geralt groans as Jaskier sweeps out the door; his dainty hands clenched into tight fists by his side as he exits, leaving Geralt sitting rigidly behind his desk. “Damn it, Jaskier,” Geralt growls angrily into the empty room. He rises from his chair, his large palms slamming down on the desk as he storms out of the room behind Jaskier. 

~~~~~~~

Jaskier sways gently to the heavy thumping of the music, an unfamiliar pop song blaring from the speakers, sweaty bodies engulfing him. The buzz of alcohol running through his system prevents him from feeling uncomfortable with so many strangers pressed close to him. 

A pair of large hands wrap around his waist, a muscular torso presses firmly against his back. He tips his head back to lean against the firm chest. “I think it's time to leave, Jask,” Geralt grumbles unhappily into the inebriated man's ear. 

“No,” Jaskier slurs petulantly, his lips pulled into an endearing pout as he turns in Geralt's hold, tilting his head up to face the larger man, his chin resting against Geralt's chest to support his unstable head. “Drink with me.” 

Geralt wants to deny the man, but finds it an impossible task, with Jaskier’s bright blue eyes roving over his face. 

“Fine,” Geralt grumbles, reluctantly allowing Jaskier to pull him in the direction of the bar, Jaskier's small hand fitting easily inside his larger one, their fingers intertwining. 

~~~~~~~

Several drinks later Jaskier is standing at the bar, Geralt silent at his side. He motions for another round of shots, Geralt humming in displeasure as he watches him drown his sorrows in liquor, as he sits beside him, unaware that he is the reason for Jaskier’s excessive drinking. 

“Have another with me, Geralt,” Jaskier whines petulantly, his lips turned down into a childish pout.

Geralt grunts moodily as his large fingers slowly wrap around one of the shot glasses decorating the bar. 

“Alright then. Bottoms up, boss.” 

Geralt releases an unexpected, amused snort as his cheeks fill with the alcohol. 

Jaskier gags on the amber liquid as it burns his throat, and he turns to Geralt, his brows furrowed with confusion. He can feel the heavy buzz of alcohol as it blurs his thoughts. “What's funny?” he asks, his words slightly slurred.

Geralt gives him a pointed look before barking out a laugh, his usually pale cheeks flushing deeper with every shot that passes his lips. “Jus' think it's funny, you talking about bottoms.” Geralt chuckles, his raspy voice sending tingles down Jaskier's spine. 

Jaskier flushes, his cheeks glowing in the dim light of the bar as Geralt's implication finally pierces through his drunken haze. He pours all his strength into his arms as his dainty palms push at Geralt's firm chest, his pecs hard beneath Jaskier’s palms. “You arse!” Jaskier exclaims, affronted, his cheeks darkening under Geralt's heavy gaze. 

“Not wrong, though,” Geralt murmurs, biting down on his bottom lip, a poor attempt at hiding his smug smirk. Jaskier slides another shot in Geralt's direction with a pointed glare, the larger man catching it effortlessly as he raises a well-groomed eyebrow, silently challenging the younger man to dispute his comment. 

“Don't assume shit,” Jaskier grumbles, his previously jovial mood turning sour with the current topic of conversation.He usually laughs at such jokes; he never cared what people think of him, sexually or otherwise, but that was before Geralt. The man is effortlessly handsome, caring even if he’s not comfortable showing it, and Jaskier has been pining for him since they first met, falling harder with every new quirk uncovered. He shakes his head returning to the moment, abruptly throwing his shot back, wincing as the vile taste of alcohol coats his tongue. 

“Who said I'm assuming,” Geralt smirks, his hair flowing flawlessly down his toned back as he throws back another shot, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Jaskier gapes in disbelief, a shiver zipping down his spine, his eyes caught on the way Geralt's throat works to swallow the liquid. 

“What?” Jaskier squeaks, his eyes blown wide with a mixture of shock and arousal, the conversation both offending him and causing arousal to pool deep in his belly. 

“You're obvious, Jask,” Geralt grumbles as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth collecting the liquor that had dripped obscenely from his mouth, his lips shining wetly in the dim lighting. Jaskier tracks the movement hungrily, absently licking at his parched lips. 

“How?” he whispers, his head downturned to avoid meeting Geralt's gaze head-on. Geralt's hulking frame blocks his view of the ground, his large body bracketing Jaskier against the solid bar table. Jaskier quickly finds his small frame caged between Geralt's corded arms. "G-Geralt" he squeaks, breath hitching in his throat as his hazy blue eyes flick up to meet Geralt's burning amber gaze beneath fluttering lashes. 

Geralt leans in slowly. Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat as Geralt’s warm breaths puff against the side of his neck. “You love to be manhandled,” Geralt whispers, his large hands dropping to the gentle curve of Jaskier’s waist, his rough fingertips gently digging into the meat of his hips. Jaskier moans breathily as he feels Geralt sharp teeth grazing at the exposed skin of his collarbone, his heart beats heavily in his chest as Geralt pulls far enough away to smirk down at him. 

“Fuck you, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbles, trying uselessly to wrench himself out of Geralt’s hold. “Let go of me,” Jaskier demands halfheartedly, moaning as Geralt's hands instinctively tighten on his hips, the bruising grip going straight to his cock. 

“And your arse, Jask, fuck, you were made to bottom,” Geralt groans, his breath hot against Jaskier’s skin as he brings his hand down on the clothed flesh of his arse. Jaskier whimpers, the impact causing a deliciously sharp sting to pulse through his arse. His forehead drops to Geralt's broad shoulder as he melts into Geralt's secure hold. 

“Fuck,” Geralt groans, his words muffled as he presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to the crown of Jaskier’s head. “God, you're gorgeous,” Geralt mumbles into his hair, the words causing Jaskier’s heart to constrict painfully in his chest. 

“Take me home,” Jaskier whispers, nuzzling against the skin of Geralt's throat, greedily licking the salty tang of the man's skin from his lips. “Please,” he whimpers, his chest heaving as he felt the vibration of Geralt’s groaning deeply above him. 

~~~~~~~

They go back to the lavish apartment he shares with Geralt — for work, Jaskier’s mind unhelpfully reminds him, as he struggles to remove his denim jacket, his arms getting tangled in the sleeves. “Here, let me,” Geralt mumbles behind him, the warmth of his body pressing up against Jaskier’s back as he steps close to peel the rigid material from Jaskiers shoulders, leaving the jacket to pool at their feet. Geralt's arm snakes around his waist, falling to rest against the toned muscles of Jaskiers stomach, his lips nipping at the sensitive skin of his pale neck. 

Jaskier breaths out as he feels Geralt sucking a mark into the sensitive flesh, his head dropping back to rest against the man's shoulder. He whimpers, unintentionally rolling his arse against Geralt's crotch. “Jask,” Geralt groans, his warm breath catching on the wet skin of Jaskier's marked neck. 

Jaskier's cock twitches beneath the restrictive material of his jeans. “Geralt, fuck,” Jaskier moans needily, his arms raising to allow his fingers to knot themselves into the long strands of Geralt’s hair. 

Geralt pushes Jaskier forward until his chest is pressed flush to the front door's cold metal, his mouth sucking greedily at Jaskier’s throat. Geralt's warm hand slowly trails underneath Jaskier's loose shirt, his guitar-calloused fingertips grazing his nipple, pinching the nub gently between his fingers. “God, you're beautiful.” 

“Geralt,” Jaskier moans, firmly grinding back against Geralt, the man's hard cock pressing heavily against him. 

Geralt gathers Jaskiers dainty wrists in one hand, effortlessly pinning them above his head as he grinds his cock against the curve of his arse. Jaskier’s breathing stutters as Geralt flips him around, the smaller man moaning shamelessly as their cocks brush together, their jeans the only thing separating their members.

Geralt smirks confidently down at him, hooking one of Jaskier’s thighs over his hip before grinding their cocks together. Jaskier moans, gripping at Geralt’s hips, his usually chaotic thoughts quiet beneath Geralt's touch. Jaskier pants heavily against the clothed shoulder, the tortuously slow grind of Geralt's hips leaving his mind pleasantly blank. 

The brush of Geralt's lips against his cheek feels like being doused with cold water. Jaskier yelps, pushing himself further against the door. “Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier whispers, hastily shaking his head, as the comforting buzz of alcohol slowly recedes. 

Geralt pulls back. His blown pupils meet Jaskier’s, his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, turning the flesh white. Jaskier feels the burn of tears at his waterline as Geralt slowly backs away, his clouded amber eyes clearing. 

“Shit, we shouldn't have—oh, God.” Geralt's hand covers his mouth, his eyes wide as he stares down at Jaskier’s dishevelled form, his eyes locking on the bruise he'd sucked into his neck. “I can't, fuck.” Geralt hastily retreats from the room, the sound of his door slamming piercing the silence. 

Jaskier's back slides down the door, his body numb to the cold material. He presses a palm roughly against his mouth to muffle a broken sob; he clenches his eyes shut, tears steadily flowing over his cheeks as his heart constricts painfully in his chest, the memory of Geralt's touch seared into his skin. 

~~~~~

“Jaskier,” Geralt's voice croaks from behind him, startling him from the trance he'd been lost in while playing. Jaskier turns. Their eyes meet for the first time in weeks. Jaskier buckles under the weight of the man's gaze, stumbling as he tries to exit the room, hoping to escape the impending conversation. Geralt's hand shoots out, gripping Jaskiers wrist gently, a silent plea for the man to stay. 

“Geralt, please,” Jaskier whimpers weakly, fighting the urge to fall into the man's touch. “I don't need to be let down gently Geralt, please just let me leave,” Jaskier states sadly pulling his wrist from Geralt's careful grip. 

“Damn it, Jaskier, just let me talk!" Geralt snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I didn't even know you had feelings for me!” Geralt shouts, his voice ringing out in the otherwise silent apartment. 

“God, I hate you!” Jaskier yells back, his chest squeezing painfully as he forces the words out. Geralt stops pacing and turns to Jaskier, his molten eyes stormy as they lock on Jaskier. 

“You infuriate me, Jaskier. I'm your boss, for fuck’s sake," Geralt growls, stepping forward until he's crowding Jaskier against the piano, the smaller man's back curved uncomfortably against the solid wooden instrument.

Jaskier meets his eyes, his head tipped up defiantly, refusing to cower before the larger man. “Doesn't seem to stop you from wanting to bury your cock in my arse,” Jaskier spits crudely, smirking as Geralt winces over the vulgar words. 

Geralt growls low in his chest, his hand twisting roughly in the flimsy material of Jaskiers button up. “Fuck you,” Geralt groans, surging forward his lips meeting Jaskier’s, pulling the younger man into a biting kiss. Jaskier kisses back fervently, losing himself in the rough give and take of their lips crashing together. 

They pull away, heavy breaths mingling between them “Don't do this to me, Geralt, because I'll let you,” Jaskier whispers, the honesty in the statement sending a pang of hurt through him. He watches as Geralt's eyes darken, guilt swimming clearly in the man's glowing orbs. 

“I didn't—fuck, Jask, I didn't know, you didn't tell me." Geralt drops his forehead against Jaskier’s, their cheeks dusted pink, chests heaving between their bodies. “I'd never knowingly hurt you like that,” Geralt whispers, his pained golden eyes meeting Jaskier's. 

“Oh Geralt, you oblivious brute,” Jaskier murmurs one of his soft, dainty hands gently cupping Geralt's cheek as he urges the man's lips back to his. Their lips press softly, Geralt's tongue gently licking into the wet heat of his mouth, Jaskier moans sweetly into his mouth as Geralt's arms wrap around his waist, hands resting against the small of his back. 

Geralt pulls back from the kiss, his eyes slowly raking over every soft curve of Jaskier’s body “You're beautiful, Jask,” Geralt whispers reverently pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, the smaller man quietly whimpering. “Jask?” Geralt asks his brow furrowing in concern. 

“I love you, Geralt.” A soft smile splits the older man's lips as Jaskier blinks up at him, his own lips mirroring Geralt's smile. 

“Yen's going to kill me, but fuck, Jask, I love you too.” Geralt tightens his grip around Jaskier’s waist, the younger man squeaking in surprise as Geralt pulls him against his chest into a searing kiss. Their lips sliding together wetly, Geralt's tongue licking into his mouth. 

“Take me to bed,” Jaskier demands between wet kisses. He jumps in Geralt’s strong arms, the man easily catching him by gripping his thighs and pulling them over his hips to hold him up, their bodies rolling sinfully against each other.

“Brat,” Geralt chuckles into Jaskiers mouth, their teeth clashing as they grin dopily into the kiss. 

They’re interrupted by a loud groan, they turn to see Yen entering the music room, her eyes rolling as she fixes them with a knowing smirk.

“Ugh, bedroom, boys. Geralt, you owe me twenty.” She smirks, one immaculate eyebrow raised as she gestures to the way Jaskier is wrapped around Geralt's body. The two men break out into breathless laughter, childish giggles easily falling from their lips as the woman purses her lips. “And I want you both in my office first thing tomorrow,” she commands. Her hair swishes over her shoulder as she sweeps from the room, grumbling under her breath about the PR nightmare the two men were about to be. 

The two men break out into hysterics, stealing soft kisses as Geralt walks them to his bedroom, Jaskier’s head resting gently against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart, a fond smile on his face.


End file.
